On Mothering Sunday, Jade's body was driven from her home in affluent Essex, south over the Thames and back to Bermondsey, where she had started out in life.

She was taken to Albin & Sons Funeral Directors, where she was embalmed and laid on a velvet bed.

For 13 days until her funeral, mum Jackiey maintained a vigil at her side. She says: "I knew Jade didn't want to be alone in a strange place, so I tried to make it as homely as I could.

"I put pictures of her, the boys and Jack all over the place, brought in her favourite Jo Malone candles, even the spotty cups from her kitchen - and her tea towels!" Jackiey herself put Jade in the wedding gown she had worn just a month earlier.

"The night before they were going to close the coffin I slept on the sofa next to her. It felt the natural place for me to be."

When Jade's white oak coffin was brought in, Jackiey had helped lift her daughter into it and arrange her dress.

She placed a cross in Jade's hand and a small square of pink blanket which had been her comfort in her final weeks. Also placed around her were a book of pictures from her life, a DVD of her wedding, a framed photo of her, Jack and the boys, and a picture of Jade and Jackiey.

Ordeal

"Then I kissed her for everyone," recalls Jackiey. "For the boys, for me, 10 times on her forehead from Jack's dad Andy, and then just once, on the lips, from Jack.

"Seeing that metal lid go on her was the worst. I cried, 'Oh, but she won't be able to breathe in there.' And Barry, the funeral director, just held me and said, 'Oh Jackiey, she's gone. She's gone.'" The next day, hundreds attended Jade's funeral at St John the Baptist church in Buckhurst Hill. Millions more watched it on television. Afterwards there was a burial for just close friends and family.

But Jackiey's toughest ordeal was yet to come - turning Jade's makeshift hospital room at her home back into a dining room.

"I'd been staying at Jade's house since she died," says Jackiey. "I even slept in her bed every night to be close to her.

"In that room you could still smell Jade. Not a dirty smell but a smell of illness and that somehow kept her close. As they put all the equipment in the lorry - the bed, wheelchair, the drips and drug trolleys - I kept thinking, 'It's all disappearing'.

"Then Jade's friend Char went to open the patio doors and I screamed, 'Don't!' I couldn't bear the thought of losing that smell of Jade - it was all I had left.

"I arranged it all back to a dining room and then just sat, taking in deep breaths of Jade's smell. Then I looked up and saw the two daffodils the boys had brought their Mum before Mother's Day.